


Oak

by Wingstar102



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, BotFA Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Mourning, Reports of Thorin's Death Greatly Exaggerated, Romance, Sex, Sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:43:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wingstar102/pseuds/Wingstar102
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo could not see Thorin buried. But fleeing immediately after Thorin said goodbye may not have been the best idea Bilbo's ever had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homecoming

The dawn light rushed past him, illuminating the road home.  
  
Not even the beauty of the Shire lit by the morning sun rising behind him could lift the crushing sorrow from his battered heart. All the same, Bilbo quietly steered his pony up the road and stopped in front of his faded gate and equally faded green door. The indignity of the paint being worn did not stir his ire either. Nothing did.  
  
Not since Thorin...  
  
Tears welled up in his large blue eyes, but he blinked them back and sternly reminded himself that now was not the time. He had a pony to unload and care for, a house to settle back into and restock. It was doubtful that the Shirefolk would stay away long enough to do things properly, so he had to move fast. Bilbo just wanted to sleep, though it was never restful and never would be again.  
  
Shaking off the memories threatening to overwhelm him, he carefully slid out of the saddle and gave a brief pat to the pony's neck before beginning the draining task of unloading the tired beast.  
  
"Home, sweet home," Bilbo muttered to no one, propping open the front gate and walking up to drop the first of the two loads onto the front porch. He was lying to himself though. Bag End didn't feel like home anymore. He doubted it ever would. After the second load made it's way up, the Halfling slowly coaxed the pony up the hill where the large oak tree stood proudly over his house. The grass under the tree was juicy and sweet, and he figured a tired beast could safely rest and eat at leisure.  
  
Really though, Bilbo thought it was a fine idea to at least rest in the cool shade of the oak for a few minutes and gather himself for the task ahead. So he plopped himself down at the base of the tree and leaned against the solid trunk, trying to empty his mind.  
  
It didn't work.  
  
Bilbo kept seeing flashes of intense blue eyes and a stern face, weary and fading as the life sapped out of him from great wounds made by an Orc's spear. A gruff voice lingering on the air inside a healer's tent, whispering words of regret and parting. The large hand gently grasping his own had fallen limp as Thorin's eyes closed and he started to slip away. Gandalf  had quietly told him that the King wouldn't live through the night.  
  
Heart shattering, Bilbo had fled the battlefield and Erebor that hour, unable to take watching the love of his life die. It was too cruel, especially because he never told Thorin.  
  
Pushing past everyone in his way, he had stolen a pony and some traveling supplies, and left before Thorin drew his last breath. Sorrow hounded his steps all the way from Erebor to the Grey Mountains, Ettenmoore to Rivendell and all the long East Road through Bree to the Shire. The generosity of strangers along the way kept him on the right path and from starving or dying of exposure, and hiding made the dangerous ones overlook him. The week long stop with Lord Elrond and his Elves refreshed his body and mind long enough for the last push home. In exchange, he gave them the news of Smaug's defeat and the reclamation of the Lonely Mountain, the cost being the deaths of King and nephews.  
  
Mourning songs had filled the air every night after the tale, in honor of the fallen. Bilbo's soul bled while listening to the haunting melodies, but he refused to grieve. There would be time enough once he was back in the Shire.  
  
And six months after Thorin's death, Bilbo was home.  
  
Sitting under the tree, watching the pony who had come all this way with him, Bilbo finally gave into the ghost that he felt had followed him. Settling in be damned.  
  
Tears clouded his eyes, just thinking about his beloved laying in a cold, stone tomb. Someone would have prepared his body, washing away the blood and dirt of war, and dressed him in the robes of a King. Hair smoothed and brushed in a dark cascade, hands clasped just below his heart around the haft of his great ax, beautiful face finally relaxed with the peace of death.  
  
The first wailing sob broke the stillness of the morning, heard across the breadth of the Shire.  
  
A thousand miles to the East, the ghost of a cry woke a Dwarf in the depths of Erebor. He decided then that it was time to leave.


	2. Wanderlust

The days passed in a slow haze of sorrow for Bilbo.  
  
Awaking when the sunlight touched his face, Bilbo would roll over to climb out of his bedroll, thinking he was still on the road, ready to greet his companions and pack for another day of travel. Instead, he would hit the floor painfully and remember with a wrench that he was back at Bag End. It hurt in a way he couldn't name that his friends, Dwarves that he had grown so fond of and close to, were not with him. More so that their mighty King was not walking the world anymore, far beyond his reach.  
  
It was an awful way to start his day and the misery showed.  
  
The Shirefolk knew something was wrong from the first. Bilbo had no patience for his cousins, especially Lobelia's, antics and would never stoop to gossip at all anymore. He went about his business in a pleasant manner with all he encountered, but no farther than that. The neighbors, already convinced of Bilbo's oddness, started whispering about how much more strange he became during his time away. For his part, Bilbo ignored it, too wrapped in misery to much care for the looks and gossip. He spent his days fixing what neglect had done to his home.  
  
And every evening he could manage, Bilbo would sit with his pipe for hours and look to the East, to Erebor, mind lost to the days of the Company.  
  
Dwarven songs around the campfire and lively tales to distract from the scant rations. The subtle perfume of pipeweed under the heady scents of the wild places they passed; the solid ground constantly changing beneath his feet, hard and cold and soft and dusty and damp in turn. Long days of dangerous travel and short nights of nervous rest.  
  
Mostly his mind dwelt on burning and determined eyes that gave glimpses of a sweet, stout, honorable heart. Those eyes were even in his dreams, blazing hot with a passion that almost brought Bilbo to his knees. Sitting under the dark night sky, he grieved for the chances he never took, of companions that he missed beyond words and a life lost that was more dear than his own.  
  
His reminiscing would sometimes grip him harder still and he would take those days to wander the Old Forest. It wasn't quite the same, even taking the absence of his companions into account, but it was enough to soothe his sadness for a little while. Walking also helped him think. For instance, he hadn't found out the fate of the other Dwarves. Did any of them survive the battle? Were those that were left able to finally settle peacefully in the home they fought so hard for? When would they bring those still at Ered Luin to Erebor? In Bilbo's haste to leave, so many questions that he now had were unanswered. It crossed his mind that maybe he could go back, visit awhile. Learn what his great friends had done it the wake of Smaug's demise.  
  
Also, he would pay his proper respects to Thorin. Regardless of all that passed, of all that his heart wanted and could not get, it was the height of rudeness and incivility to leave before Thorin had been lain to rest. Bilbo was not some uncivilized barbarian, so he would go.  
  
It was almost serendipitous that a couple weeks later, just before the weather would turn for the winter, Bilbo came upon a fitting tribute to the fallen King upon his return to the Mountain. Walking amongst the towering trees of the forest, stomping through the freshly fallen leaves, he came to a storm blasted oak. The thick giant had been split almost cleanly from crown to roots and large chunks of it littered the ground close around the base. Staring at the pieces, Bilbo had a vivid flash of memory, of Thorin's shield left behind when the Eagles rescued them from Azog the first time.  
  
Thorin never did replace the thing before retaking Erebor. Suddenly, he was seized by a spark of inspiration as if Yavanna Herself had given the idea to him. "Yes!" Laughing with the sudden rush of purpose, he picked through the larger sections of wood on the ground and found one that he thought would work well. His father had been a fair hand with woodworking in his day and made sure that Bilbo had learned the basics of the craft at least. The rest of the skills needed he could pick up from other Hobbits or stumble through it.  
  
While his tribute would be woefully late, no King should be lain to rest without his shield. He figured that making a new one for Thorin was the least he could do.  
  
Finally with a task to focus on, Bilbo's steps were a little lighter as he took his find home to start on.  
  
~~~  
  
"Is my pony ready?"  
  
Balin glanced over his shoulder towards the owner of the gruff voice. "Yes, my King."  
  
Thorin sighed and rubbed a large hand across his forehead. "I am no longer King." It wasn't the first time he had to remind the old Dwarf of that fact, but he never regretted his decision to renounce his title. As next in line, Fili ascended to the throne. Thorin had no doubt his nephew could do the job better than he had. Fili had learned all Thorin could teach him about his duty while they healed. Dwalin would also be there to guide him as the young Dwarf found his footing in his new role.  
  
In a way, abdicating the throne was a massive relief. After the debacle with the Elves and Men, in addition to the goldsickness, Thorin knew that his reign would never have been peacefully accepted and doubt would tarnish the loyalty of the Dwarves of Erebor during it. For his people, it was better that Thorin not rule. In his soul though, Thorin knew his path lay with a witty and brave thief who had stolen his heart. The long days abed healing had waken him up to the fact that somehow, when he wasn't looking, Bilbo became the most important being in his world. His sickness had clouded the feelings, but riding the edge of death for so long must have cured him for the gold no longer called to him.  
  
Trembling only a little from the lingering weakness of body, Thorin made his way over and did a quick double check of the straps before clambering up into the saddle of his waiting pony. The last of their little band came stomping out of the gates, red hair glinting in the morning sun, though Gloin did not seem happy to be on the road back to his wife and son. Probably because it was morning and the Dwarf never got on well being up so early.  
  
"Come my friend!" Balin said cheerfully, clapping the other Dwarf on the shoulder as soon as he came close. "The sooner we leave, the sooner we can return."  
  
Rising sun at their backs, Thorin clicked at his pony to get the beast moving and glanced on last time at his old home. His old company started gathering at the entrance to see them off with a happy roar of well wishes. Everything that needed to be said, including parting words with his new King, had already been said. With a last wave, Thorin turned to the West. He had a handsome burglar to reunite with and woo, and a new home to make. The first step being the six months it would take to travel to the unsuspecting Bilbo Baggins.  
  
Thorin smiled.


	3. Ghost

A bittersweet smile graced Bilbo's soft lips, fingers smoothing across the fine grain of the wood and sliding effortlessly over the rim of metal. The piece was almost done. Some finishing and carving the simple squares and lines emblem of Erebor on the face were the only parts left. He was pretty proud of the way it was coming along too.  
  
Having to reconstruct the basic design from memory had been a daunting task, but he managed it well, as did his great uncle Longo's guidance. The old Hobbit had shown him the way to hollow out a space without compromising the rest of the wood and the finer points of making the shield presentable. Had Thorin been alive, Bilbo knew that it would have served and fit well on the King's arm. Thick enough to withstand a hit from the mightiest ax, it was also light enough that even a Halfling child could carry it with ease despite it being made of heavy oak and steel.  
  
Smiling to himself, Bilbo knew the King would have appreciated it. Running his hand one last time over the gleaming wood, he allowed himself to picture his beloved Thorin, striding through wide stone halls, large hand holding fast to the central grip, the bright steel rim shining beautifully. A simple fantasy, he knew. It would be enough to leave it on Thorin's stone tomb.  
  
It would have to be.  
  
Morose suddenly, Bilbo carefully packed his woodworking tools away for the time being and went inside to truly start his day. So it had been through the relatively mild Winter and most of Spring. He would wake with the sun and don his scruffiest clothes to work on the shield first thing. In the beginning, Bilbo would labor on it until his muscles hurt and his hands were covered with splinters and cuts. As his skill improved, he could go longer, sometimes all day if lost in the steady rhythm of sanding or carefully shaving away at the wood, but most times would stop once his stomach protested from hunger. Then he often dealt with things around his smial or wandered through the Hobbiton. Less frequently than when he first came back he traveled to the forest for the quiet, but was still drawn to faint echos of his time with his Dwarven friends in spite of his new purpose. And his heart still ached fiercely for Thorin, his mind still plagued with questions of the aftermath.  
  
The day was not to be spent on finishing his project though. He had errands to run in the market, including finding a new waistcoat, as well as picking up the perishables that his rather sizable garden did not have. Such was the way of it though and it would be poor showing for a Hobbit to starve himself to death.  
  
A quick and steaming bath had him clean of the sawdust in no time, and he was dressed in simple green for the trip out faster than he used to. Before rolling out of a bedroll meant ready to move with no time to really stay properly groomed. Now, the need to primp for an hour had fallen away from his habits and he was glad of it. His reputation was forever tarnished and there was no longer a reason to keep up the facade of a respectable Hobbit anymore. Oh, he was never disheveled or unkempt, he just did not see the need for such trappings of status. Another piece of his old life that had been stripped away by the realization that his life was too short to care what others thought. Very freeing to his soul in a way.  
  
Hobbits were sensible people though and just because he was now the odd Bilbo Baggins who had run off into the Wild, they still chattered and gossiped with him about all manner of things. This very humid Spring day would be no different either he found, for as soon as he meandered his way from Bag End to the market, the happy talking seemed more excited than usual.  
  
"Mister Baggins!"   
  
A nasally voice as he had ever heard and Bilbo barely checked the impulse to roll his eyes and groan as he turned to the speaker. "Mister Twofoot, how are you this day?" Bilbo had no love for Master Hamfast's neighbor, but bore his sudden approach from his browsing out of respect for the gardener.  
  
Daddy Twofoot came to stop well within what Bilbo considered an appropriate distance, rankling as it was. "A strange bit of news came out of Bree this morning." The pretentious being drew himself up to his full height, like he was going to import some great bit of knowledge and then paused.  
  
Bilbo did not grumble at the display of dramatics, though it was a near thing. He took a deep silent breath and asked the Valar for patience. "What bit of news would you have from the town then?"  
  
"Three Dwarves were seen staying at the Pony yesterday."  
  
"Is that so?" It was a nonchalant response and Bilbo knew it, but he would not give this irritating Hobbit anything more to wag his tongue about. It was not anyone's business that his pulse picked up to a thunderous and joyful gallop. Maybe he could at least host the group and ask after news of his friends. He was still going to Erebor to see them for himself, however the chance to find out who survived and how they fared was too much to pass up.  
  
"Oh yes." Twofoot leaned in closer, as if he was telling a great secret. "One of the traders heard them talking. One was coming our way while the other two were going on to the Blue Mountains." Rubbing a hand through his curly hair, Twofoot stepped back a little and eyed Bilbo speculatively. "I'd wager this Dwarf was coming to see you, seeing that you are the only one to associate with such wild folk."  
  
"Can you tell me what they looked like?"  
  
Scoffing loudly, the Halfling shook his head. "Nay. Why would I want to know their looks?" At this, he wandered back to his shopping and Bilbo growl softly in frustration. Learn an interesting bit of news, but not anything of value about the travellers except their race?  
  
Muttering about useless gossips under his breath, Bilbo quickly did his business and went home just as the afternoon rain clouds started to darken the sky.  
  
~~~  
  
The thunderstorm cast darkness across the Shire and the rain came down in heavy sheets, but Bilbo didn't pay it much mind. A steaming cup of his afternoon tea sitting at his elbow, he curled up in his armchair next to the merrily flickering fireplace with a book, ready to quietly ride out the magnificent storm.  
  
The Dwarf that Twofoot had heard about hadn't shown in Hobbiton so far and at this point, he doubted any such being would show up on his doorstep. To think, he had seriously entertained the idea that any one of the Company would take the time to come all the way to the Shire, or even send a letter. There was too much rebuilding to do and not enough hands for anyone to shirk their responsibilities. Well, he reasoned, it would not be much longer before he was on the road back for a visit. His burning questions would just have to wait.  
  
Relaxing completely into his chair, he popped open his book, but a sudden pounding on his door had Bilbo jumping eagerly out of his chair. Maybe it was that Dwarf after all!  
  
In seconds Bilbo was at his door and yanking it open.  
  
It certainly was a Dwarf on his doorstep. A rather large one too, wrapped in a heavy cloak to ward off the rain, the hood creating a deep enough shadow to obscure the face. "Master Dwarf! A fine treat to find you on my doorstep." Bilbo gladly motioned for the being to come into the smial and shut the door once the soaked being was standing in his foyer. "A little late for tea time, but I shall make you a cup regardless."  
  
Bilbo turned away, ready to head to the kitchen to start the teapot boiling again, but a deep chuckled filled the air. "Thank you, Master Baggins."  
  
Slowly, sure that he had lost his wits finally to grief, Bilbo turned back to his visitor that had spoken with such a familiar voice. Large, battle-scarred hands pulled away the hood hiding a specter from his memories. Raven black hair streaked with more silver than the last time Bilbo had see it cascaded around the noble face, sweet and deep blue eyes crinkled with a happy smile that graced the normally stern mouth. The rest of the ghost standing in his home was covered with a dripping cloak.  
  
"Thorin." Reaching out a trembling hand to touch the ghost of his beloved's face, Bilbo never made contact. Overwhelmed, his mind gave out.


	4. Reunion

Thorin grinned at the sleeping Hobbit and gently ran his finger over Bilbo's smooth cheek.  
  
While he knew, objectively, that his burglar would be surprised to see him alive, maybe even overjoyed, Thorin really had not been ready to see Bilbo's lovely blue eyes to roll back in a faint. Lucky for his friend, Thorin was close enough to catch him before he hit the floor! Shaking his head fondly, the Dwarf had taken Bilbo to his room and laid him on the big bed. As much as he wanted to stay the entire time the Halfling was unconscious, he needed to take care of his pack before the rain soaked through the thing.  
  
Back in minutes, things safely taken from the porch and stowed out of the way in the foyer, Thorin took up a watchful position, sitting on the edge of the bed to wait. Although he did not like the fact that Bilbo was out, he still appreciated the time it gave him to simply drink in the sight of the Hobbit.  
  
Tousled tawny curls, softly rounded cheeks and the sloping nose were just as Thorin remembered, but the careworn lines around the lush mouth and closed eyes worried him. So did the apparent slimness of Bilbo's body. This was not the healthy plumpness that he had seen when they first met. After all this time, Bilbo should have regained the weight lost to hard travel on scarce rations by now. Maybe he could do something about it.  
  
Not at the moment though. He just wanted to bask in Bilbo's presence, whether sleeping or awake.  
  
Bilbo did not stay unconscious for much longer. Just as Thorin stroked Bilbo's cheek again, the sparkling blue eyes opened, confusion marring his face when he looked at Thorin. "You are dead."  
  
For a moment, the raw pain that flashed across Bilbo's face was too much to bear before he shut his eyes again. Reaching out, Thorin cupped his friend's face and ran a thumb over the warm skin of Bilbo's cheek. "Oh, my dear Hobbit, I am very much alive."  
  
It took long seconds, but Bilbo opened his eyes, leaning into the Dwarf's large hand, carefully scrutinizing the being sitting on the edge of his bed. Maybe it was the open look of happiness on Thorin's face, or the solidness of the hand gently touching him, or maybe even that Bilbo so badly wanted his beloved to actually be there, but he decided he didn't care if it was only another dream. All that mattered was that Thorin, by some unexplained miracle was here, warm and solid and alive.  
  
Launching himself with a laugh full of all the joy in his heart, Bilbo tackled Thorin and wrapped him in a hug so tight that the Dwarf was sure some of his ribs were bruised. But he could not complain because he held on just as tight, pleased beyond measure to finally have Bilbo in his arms.  
  
~~~  
  
After the enthusiastic reunion between friends, Bilbo had ushered him into the dining room and set about putting on a small feast, seeming to dance around the kitchen because his soul was so light. To think, his beloved, here! Whole and breathing and gracing his home.  
  
Though it did not escape his attention that Thorin had brought a great deal more than a light traveling pack as he would if it was just for a visit. He noticed it while bringing the food to the table, the heavy pack stuffed as unobtrusively as possible near the door. It was not well hidden. He held his questions until Thorin scraped the last bit of mashed potatoes from his plate with a biscuit and took a last sip of the sweet wine Bilbo had taken out for the occasion.  
  
Well, he was never one to stall when he was curious. "My King, what are you doing here?"  
  
It wasn't until Thorin laughed that Bilbo realized how rude his question sounded. A dark blush colored his face from the embarrassment, but his friend simply held up a hand while he brought his amusement under control. "It is quite a tale my friend."  
  
"I should think so!" Suddenly indignant, Bilbo waved a hand around, irritated for a reason that he could not put a name to. "You show up out of the Wilds, not even bothering to have the good manners to send a letter ahead of your arrival so that my poor heart would stop clenching in pain every time I thought you dead?" Bilbo gave Thorin a fierce little growl. "Appallingly bad manners Master Oakenshield."  
  
"To think I missed your temper those months I laid abed half mad with fever." Shaking his head, chuckling despite being on the wrong side of his burglar's sharp tongue, Thorin continued. "Please let me explain."  
  
Bilbo leaned forward in his chair. "Start at the beginning please. I missed a great deal of what happened after..." He trailed off, not certain how to word his experience of that despairing night. "Well, after. Gandalf told me the li-likely - " Stuttering over himself, Bilbo gave an annoyed little huff. "But that did not happen, because here you are."  
  
"Yes, here I am and I am hoping to be here for a great while longer, which I will explain later." Thorin braced himself, heart trembling a little at the thought of divulging all of the painful days between the battle and now. It was a daunting prospect, but Bilbo deserved to hear it all, especially because so much of what Thorin was doing in the Shire had to do with the Halfling.  
  
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "When I was struck down on the field and brought to the healers, I was certain I was going to die. I would close my eyes and see the waiting Hall, could see my ancestors ready to welcome me.  
  
"You came then, and we talked, though I am not sure about what all was said." Gruffly, he cleared his throat of the tears trying to clog it and glanced away to the dark window behind Bilbo. "I do remember that you forgave me my foolish actions."  
  
"I did."Impulsively, Bilbo reached out and wrapped Thorin's large, scarred hand in both of his own. "I understand you were suffering the goldsickness and not really in control."  
  
"I am still responsible for my actions." Thorin squeezed Bilbo's hands warmly when a puzzled frown crossed his friend's face. "It was a dishonor I accused you of, a dishonor you did not earn. Even in my madness, I knew that you were attempting to help, but the vile whispering of the sickness twisted your words and intentions."   
  
Bilbo brought the conversation back to the tale that Thorin was supposed to be telling, not wanting to dwell on his friend's bout of insanity. There would be plenty of time to sort that out later. "What happened after I left?"  
  
"An Elven healer came, I was told, and she put me into a very deep healing sleep." He ran a hand over the shorn, black stubble covering his chin, looking far too weary. "I guess I healed well enough, but it took days upon days before I was able to truly wake. They even kept me fed and watered using juices and potions!" Thorin lifted his eyes, a haunted look overpowering everything else. "But the worst were the dreams."  
  
"What were they about?" Bilbo caught the darkening blue eyes, but Thorin quickly looked away.  
  
"I would rather not say." He glanced up to find Bilbo still intently watching him. "They were horrors beyond imagining. A few were not, but instead bittersweet and sorrowful beyond my wildest imaginations. In a great many ways, those were even worse. That is all I will say on the matter."  
  
Curiosity ate at the Halfling, but he let it go. If those dreams pained Thorin so, he would not pry and possibly hurt his beloved by making him recall those things. Thorin had enough on his plate just explaining himself. "So you healed. What came after you woke?"  
  
Thorin chuckled a little, finally getting to the less dire parts of his tale. "I was forced to stay in bed for two months. Frustrating in a way I can not honestly describe, but I was as weak as a babe and just as helpless. I did give me plenty of time to think though.  
  
"I could see my actions for what they were, the madness of the Durin line that has affected me. In light of that, it became easy to see that I could not rule with the full faith and confidence of the Dwarves anymore." It was a painful realization then and it still hurt Thorin now, but he dealt with it as best he could. "Because of that, I renounced my throne."  
  
"What!" The shout was a surprise, but Bilbo was too stunned to really notice. "Oh, but Thorin! You could have regained the trust of your kingdom, if you had taken the time. What were you thinking?"  
  
Chuckling, Thorin gave Bilbo a fond look. "Dwarves do not forget and not all are as noble and loyal as our companions are. There are some who would have turned the situation to their favor by sowing dissent and unrest amongst my kingdom and it was not in the best interests of all to selfishly try and keep the throne. I did not want my years ruling to be marked with banishment or executions of the rebellious."  
  
Despite the mind boggling enormity of what Thorin's abdication meant, he could see why his friend had stepped aside. "Who did you appoint to the throne?"  
  
"Fili."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Distinguished readers, I seriously apologize for taking so long to get this chapter published. Life decided to take a serious crap on me with a load of drama that I really could have done without. But should be back to posting a chapter every couple or three days for the five chapters that remain. Thanks for your understanding.
> 
> Wingstar


	5. Letdown

"Fili's alive?"  
  
The faint breath of sound was not at all what Thorin was expecting, but then he snorted in consternation, entirely aimed at himself. It stood to reason that Bilbo didn't know the fate of the rest of their company, seeing as how he ran as soon as he was done talking to his dying King. "Yes, but his life came as close to ending as mine did. It was the same for Kili."  
  
"Thank Yavanna." The Hobbit pressed a trembling hand hard to his chest and took a very deep breath, trying to steady his suddenly racing heart. The tears gathering in Bilbo's sparkling eyes went unnoticed, it seemed. "I was as worried for their lives as I am for the rest of our companions. Did all of them make it?"  
  
"Yes." But none were unscathed, not that Thorin would tell Bilbo that at the moment. Hearing about Kili's difficulty walking, or Dwalin's left hand being chopped in half, or even the blow to the throat that silenced Bofur for the rest of his days would only distress him and his excitable, little Halfling had enough to deal with for now. "They send their best wishes and hope to one day come and see you themselves."  
  
"I would like to see them as well, to make sure they are all alive with my own eyes." Suddenly, Bilbo coughed a little to clear his throat and stood. "Maybe we should continue talking in the study. Have some tea." With a fluttering wave of the hand, Bilbo motioned to the door leading out into the hall. "Go on, I will fetch the tea and be about shortly."  
  
Thorin stood, more than ready to follow his burglar's suggestion, but stopped and looked around the beautiful dining room. The last time he was in this room, his hair was a little less gray, his shoulders carrying more burdens and no idea that here would be where his life would gain a light that would brighten all of his long days. The hard part, he had a feeling, would be convincing Bilbo of the sincerity of his heart.  
  
Smiling faintly, he wandered into the hall, walking the short distance to the study on the left. The room was just as beautiful as the rest of the smial, a buffer really between the rest of the home and Bilbo's bedroom. When he carried his friend to bed after fainting, he really didn't stop to appreciate it. Now though, it was hard not to.   
  
Shelves covered every spare bit of the walls, books and maps and colorful treasures carefully stuffed into every crevice available. A couple of wide, deep, cushioned chairs placed precisely before the port window, angled just so to catch the light best during daytime and a small table covered with books filled the space. Thorin's smile widened, picturing Bilbo curling up with a book, the chairs just the right size for a Hobbit to get comfortable in.  
  
As if being summoned, Bilbo swept in, carrying a tray with teapot and cups. The slices of warm sweet bread on a small plate were an unexpected but welcome treat. "Move my books please." The Dwarf looked around for a moment to find a good and safe place to set the things before even bothering to pick them up. It was just like his friend to try and flash an intimidating glare at Thorin as soon as his calloused fingers brushed the soft leather covers with the admonishment of, "Careful! Your brutish strength might damage them."  
  
Thorin simply chuckled and gingerly relocated the books to an empty spot on a shelf closer to the door, only a couple of steps for his longer legs and then he was back, sinking into the luxurious chair. With a move that was nothing short of undignified, Bilbo plopped down as well. And honestly, it warmed Thorin's heart, that Bilbo was so comfortable around him to drop the standard etiquette that he would reserve for guests.  
  
"Now," Bilbo made swift work of pouring the tea as he continued on, "I want to know how you talked Fili, that incorrigible princeling, into taking up the throne. He must have known how much you were leaving him to deal with."  
  
"He did know." In fact that was the only reservation Thorin had about his decision. His nephew had suffered grave injuries as well, and only his miraculously swift recovery allowed Thorin to entertain the idea of retiring to the Shire. Fili had urged him to go with his blessing. How willing Fili was to take up the reins of a whole kingdom confused Thorin, but Balin confided in him that his sister-son thought after all the sacrifices Thorin had made for his people, it was time for Thorin find his happiness and if that meant Fili took up the mantle of Kingship, he was more than glad to.  
  
No one would ever know the tears he shed for the love his nephews gave him so freely.  
  
Bilbo looked sceptical as he sipped the hot tea, the quirked eyebrow pressed Thorin into continuing. "Dwalin is watching over him and Kili, and Balin will be returning to Erebor before the end of year. I have no doubts that Fili can rule with those two watching over him." A soft chuckled escaped him. "Besides, it is not like I am unreachable. Simply retired, as it were."  
  
"But why here?" Bilbo set his cup down gently, but the Halfling's eyes flashed with something that wasn't exactly confusion. Thorin could not seem to grasp what emotion it was. "Surely you would be more at ease with other Dwarves. We are just simple and accepting folk, but even you might not be comfortable here. It would take far longer for you to settle in and be counted as one of our own than perhaps your Dwavish temperament could tolerate."  
  
This was it, the opportunity he had needed. Suddenly having to lay out the reason he was staying with his friend for the long haul, Thorin's courage failed him. He didn't let it stay his tongue though. It went against his nature to be anything except straightforward. "I will not be leaving unless you ask it of me. I came to be with you." The look of surprise flitting across Bilbo's soft face was a tiny bit amusing. It would have been funnier to Thorin under other circumstances.  
  
"Be with me?"   
  
"Yes. I wish to court you, marry you. Live out the rest of my days by your side." Thorin again saw the emotions flow across Bilbo's face. Longing, sorrow, love, wariness. None of it surprised Thorin to see, but when the wariness was what stayed, he knew that his secret dream, that Bilbo would just fall into his arms without much prompting, would not come to pass.  
  
"Thorin, I will be as forthright with you as you have just been." Bilbo fidgeted with his own fingers for a moment and seemed to be steeling himself for an unbelievable admission. "I would like nothing more than to be yours, in all ways, but as much as I know that what happened during your illness was not anything you could be responsible for, my heart is still bruised. It is only fair to tell you that I do not know if it could ever be healed enough to love you without the fear that your madness will return."  
  
"I understand." And really, Thorin did get it. There was a lot of injury he'd caused everyone, especially to his sweet Hobbit.  
  
Reaching out, Bilbo caught his hands again, resting as they were on Thorin's knees. "However, I could not turn my friend away. If you would like to make your home here and you think you could find peace among us, you are more than welcome to stay with me for as long as you need."  
  
Smiling, Thorin locked eyes with Bilbo, touched by the soft heart that would allow him to stay, despite the way Thorin had treated him before. He found his resolve to woo Bilbo strengthen considerably, more than he thought it ever could.  
  
He would heal what he had broken and capture Bilbo's love. Thorin had too much to lose if he screwed up, so he would go slowly, carefully.  
  
Thorin could be patient.  
  
He hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to have this chapter finished an posted sooner, but my old laptop died. Took time to get my new-ish one up and running the way I needed it to so I could finish this chapter. Thanks to you, dear readers, who are sticking my lagging updates out. I really appreciate your patience.


	6. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Settling in.

Even though Thorin is a King in exile, Bilbo was dreadfully dismayed at how little his friend had brought with him to the Shire. Naught else but heavy, plain clothing and a few strange tools, with a couple of personal trinkets added in. And none of it glimmered with the precious metals Dwarves were so fond of adorning themselves with. Bilbo frowned and mentioned it to Thorin.

"Of course," Thorin answered with a grimace. "I wanted to bring nothing of Erebor into your home after all the grief it has caused you."

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose hard in an attempt to stave off the brewing headache. "You incorrigible Dwarf. You are made of that mountain's very essence. If I didn't want it in my home, I would have tossed you out on your ear, Thorin."

Thorin chuckled and dipped his head in acknowledgment.

Still, Bilbo happily turned over the furthest room building into the Hill with the hope Thorin would be well content. He should be, Bilbo reasoned to himself, when one accounted for all the earth and stone of the hilltop pressing down on it. And Thorin seemed rather pleased, if not completely so. When Bilbo asked about it as well, Thorin smiled instead and would not answer.

He settled in into Bilbo's home nicely though, and after a couple of weeks, it seemed as though Thorin had always been with him at Bag End. Whether down to Market or into his garden to watch Bilbo tend it or simply quietly lost in thought in the evenings when Bilbo curled up in his favorite chair to read, it seemed. So comfortable was Thorin in Bilbo's home, in truth, that the Halfling was tickled to see him walk barefoot around the smial and gardens, and in simple long shirts and trousers. Thorin's feet were curious to behold. They seemed about the size of a Hobbit's, but small in proportion to the rest of his body.

What drew his attention most, however, was the edge of a raven black tattoo that Bilbo could catch glimpses of when Thorin had his sleeves rolled up, stone hard forearms exposed above the elbow, during some menial task.

Sure as the sunrise, because Bilbo knew Dwarves could not stand to be idle, Thorin came to him not long after those first days.

~~~

With gentle hands, Thorin gathered up the breakfast dishes and bore them away to the kitchen. That first morning in his new home, he had taken up the task of cleaning up after meals and while Bilbo had protested that, really, Thorin needn't do so, he had shushed Bilbo with a stern look. Surprisingly, Thorin enjoyed the work.

This morning, however, the Dwarf lingered over the cleaning, waiting for his One to become curious enough to seek him out. He felt it would be less intrusive when he made his request of Bilbo. At least, that was his wish.

It took long enough that Thorin had thought he missed his guess, but Bilbo did poke his nose into the kitchen with a questioning tone. "I didn't think the dishes would take so long. Do you want help?"

Thorin smothered a grin. "Nay. I was only lost in thought."

"Is that so?" Bilbo's bare feet pattered against the stone tiles near silently. A touch of his soft hand to Thorin's elbow and Thorin glanced towards him with a smile. "And here I thought, the only things in a Dwarf’s head are rocks."

"Cheeky!" Thorin picked up a cloth and dried his hands, before turning to Bilbo. "Dwarves do not enjoy being as idle as I have been recently."

Bilbo nodded as though he understood. Perhaps he did. One could not help but trip over a Halfling at any given time that wasn't at one task or another. Husbandry or working the soil, mostly, but busy all the same. "So I've noticed," Bilbo eventually replied. "Although, I can't think of anything you would enjoy doing in Hobbiton. You certainly have an aversion to gardening!"

That was true enough. As much as Thorin enjoyed watching Bilbo's clever hands turn black earth into such beauty as the blood red roses in the flower beds, it was no task Thorin himself was suited to. There was something he noticed though. "You have no blacksmith in the Shire."

"We don't." Bilbo's nose twitched in that way he did when irritated. Thorin throttled the urge to kiss the look off his One's face. "Large pieces of metalwork are normally taken to the smiths in Bree. Otherwise, we wait until a smith travels through and commission the work while the smith is here."

"An awful lot of trouble to go through."

"It is, but we are ill suited to the forges." Bilbo waved the statement away. "Besides, we make due."

Thorin allowed his grin to surface this time. "You need not. That is what my mind was occupied with."

"Oh?" Bilbo leaned his generous hip into the kitchen counter and crossed his arms, waiting. Thorin did not draw it out.

"I am a Master Blacksmith, and a fair hand as a jeweler." Thorin's mouth took on a strange twist. "I feel somewhat adrift here and this would give me a useful purpose."

His burglar's face brightened in delight, and then just as quickly fell. "We have no forge."

Thorn huffed a laugh. "A place to build one, a handful of stout Halflings to aide me, and plenty of stone to see it done. By your leave, of course."

"Of course." Bilbo pushed away from the counter and paced, seeming to mull the problem over. Thorin waited patiently, barely, until Bilbo eventually stopped at the little island in the middle of the kitchen and leaned on it with both arms. "How large of a space do you need for this?"

"At least half again as tall as a Halfling in width, length and height," Thorin answered automatically. "I would also need approximately half a tonnage of stone."

Bilbo frowned again, and Thorin scowled to see it. Nothing for it, however. Thorin just could not stand to be so idle, and as appealing as playing house husband to Bilbo was, he really needed something to do. To feel useful once more.

"There is an old rock wall near the southern edge of Hobbiton. We could re-purpose the rock into a forge." Humming to himself for a second longer, Bilbo decided to share the rest of his idea. "As far as a space, there's a spot in the back of the garden that could be used. Nothing grows on it."

"Perfect."

~~~

Three days later, one Dwarf and close to ten Halflings busily chattered and laid the foundation stones for Thorin's forge. 

He was surprised at the speed the project came together once Bilbo began organizing it. Seemed his One had a fair amount of clout. Then again, when the Thain had heard about Thorin and what he could do, Master Isumbras Took nearly cried with relief. To hear the Thain tell it, almost all, at regular intervals, would come to complain about the lack of a smith. Thain Took filed the permissions for the forge as quick as his furred feet could take him.

Master Gamgee had told Thorin it would take a week at most, weather permitting. The stout Halfling had rallied the workers once Bilbo mentioned it to him and Gamgee only asked Thorin for the sweat off his back. It was a refreshing change.

And at night, long after his beloved Bilbo wandered off to bed, Thorin would sketch out ideas for the first of many courting gifts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, dear readers, I haven't forgotten this. Life kicked me in the teeth and that's all I'll say about the hiatus. Hope you enjoyed this update!


End file.
